On Umbrella Morals
By A.G. Gardiner
Introduction .. A. G. Gardiner is obviously sad at the way dishonest and immoral people bring disgrace to the society and demean human values. To drive home his point, he has cited a couple of real-life situations where honest people inadvertently engage in apparently dishonest acts. In the same way, inherently dishonest people brazenly engage in immoral acts and never feel any remorse about it. Instead, they flaunt their misdeeds as accomplishments.
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The original essay
A sharp shower came on as I walked along the Strand, but I did not put up my umbrella. The truth is I couldn’t put up my umbrella. The frame would not work for one thing, and if it had worked, I would not have put the thing up, for I would no more be seen under such a travesty of an umbrella than Falstaff would be seen marching through Coventry with his regiment of ragamuffins. The fact is, the umbrella is not my umbrella at all. It is the umbrella of some person who I hope will read these lines. He has got my silk umbrella. I have got the cotton one he left in exchange. I imagine him flaunting along the Strand under my umbrella, and throwing a scornful glance at the fellow who was carrying his abomination and getting wet into the bargain. I daresay the rascal chuckled as he eyed the said abomination. “Ah,” he said gaily to himself, “I did you in that time, old boy. I know that thing. It won’t open for nuts. And it folds up like a sack. Now, this umbrella ….”
Explanation … Gardiner was walking along the Strand when it suddenly began to rain. He had an umbrella in his hand but chose not to open it and put it over his head. This is because the umbrella was old and dysfunctional. It was not his piece. In some shop or restaurant, customers are asked to leave their umbrellas and raincoats in a common stand placed near the entrance. The author had hung his high-value silk umbrella there. A crooked customer had come there with his tattered umbrella and had hung it there. He had eyed the author’s costly umbrella with greed. He made an early exit taking away the author’s umbrella knowingly. Such unintended wrong pick-ups happen sometimes. Perhaps, he had assumed that, if caught, he would claim innocence by saying that it was just an unintentional mistake. This didn’t happen. He vanished from the scene. The author had to come out with the old and torn umbrella that was wholly unfit for use.
To avoid embarrassment in public space, the author let the rain water drench him. All along, he was cursing the crooked man who had cleverly stolen his silk umbrella. He imagined that the culprit would be boasting about his feat, mocking the owner of the silk umbrella (the author) for his naivety.
Second paragraph …
But I leave him to his unrighteous communings. He is one of those people who have what I may call an umbrella conscience. You know the sort of person I mean. He would never put his hand in another’s pocket, or forge a cheque or rob a till — not even if he had the chance. But he will swop umbrellas, or forget to return a book, or take a rise out of the railway company. In fact he is a thoroughly honest man who allows his honesty the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he takes your umbrella at random from the barber’s stand. He knows he can’t get a worse one than his own. He may get a better. He doesn’t look at it very closely until he is well on his way. Then, “Dear me! I’ve taken the wrong umbrella,” he says, with an air of surprise, for he likes really to feel that he has made a mistake. “Ah, well, it’s no use going back now. He’d be gone. And I’ve left him mine!”
Explanation …. The author feels both miffed and dejected at the way, a trickster has taken advantage of the situation and stolen his silk umbrella. In a civilized society, gentlemen leave their umbrellas in shop counter stands and the items remain safe till they pick them up before departure. This is the accepted practice in any civilized society. The author then delves into the intent behind the apparent crime. He thinks that, at times, people unattentively pick up other people’s items like umbrellas. They discover their mistake a short while later, but don’t care to make any effort to return it to its owner. They assume wishfully that the original owner would have left the shop by then. They don’t feel any strong feeling of guilt that could force them to return to the shop to look for the owner.
The author then cites the case of passengers who board a wrong train mistakenly. In the eyes of law, they are punishable as ticket-less travellers, but the erring passengers do not feel much guilt inside.
Such instances of unlawful conduct in public places happen because the people have something that the author terms ‘umbrella conscience’. They have conscience, but it is blighted.
Third paragraph …
It is thus that we play hide-and-seek with our own conscience. It is not enough not to be found out by others; we refuse to be found out by ourselves. Quite impeccable people, people who ordinarily seem unspotted from the world, are afflicted with umbrella morals. It was a well-known preacher who was found dead in a first-class railway carriage with a third-class ticket in his pocket.
Explanation …The author rightly concludes that we often don’t respond adequately to the call of our conscience. It amounts to a certain permissiveness for the sake of convenience. When the citizens commit such moral lapses, they may escape the scrutiny of the society or the vigilance of the police. However, on deep reflection, they can’t absolve themselves of any sinful conduct. Regrettably, people enjoying an unblemished reputation of morality in the society commit such moral failings. The author cites the case of a moral preacher who was found dead in a first class compartment. Later, it was discovered that he was travelling with a third class ticket.
Fourth paragraph ..
And as for books, who has any morals where they are concerned? I remember some years ago the library of a famous divine and literary critic, who had died, being sold. It was a splendid library of rare books, chiefly concerned with seventeenth-century writers, about whom he was a distinguished authority. Multitudes of the books had the marks of libraries all over the country. He had borrowed them and never found a convenient opportunity of returning them. They clung to him like precedents to law. Yet he was a holy man and preached admirable sermons, as I can bear witness. And, if you press me on the point, I shall have to own that it is hard to part with a book you have come to love.
Explanation … The author now goes to describe the widely-prevalent practice of borrowing of books by book-lovers and the reading public at large. A vast majority of such borrowers return the books to the library after being done with them. In contrast, there a miniscule number of borrowers do not intentionally return them. Such default deprives other readers of the pleasure of reading the un-returned books. Then, there are some, enjoying exalted positions in the society who assume the borrowed books to be their own property. Such attitude is abhorrent to the values of a civilized society. The author cites the case of a dead individuals who was venerated for his intellect and for his soul-touching sermons. He was a voracious reader toom who loved the works of seventeenth-century writers. He borrowed these authors’ books, read them , but never tried to return them to the lending libraries. Was it laziness and greed that made him retain the books? The author gives the benefit of doubt to the dead literature lover saying that readers often get too enchanted with certain books to think of parting with them. At the expense of the lending libraries, they stock up their own. The author is appalled by the fact that the books of the dead man’s library were going to be disposed off as unwanted stuff. What a colossal loss it could have caused to the lending libraries! Understandably, the author berates such conduct as dishonest.
Fifth paragraph …
Indeed, the only sound rule about books is that adopted by the man who was asked by a friend to lend him a certain volume. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I can’t.” “Haven’t you got it?” asked the other. “Yes, I’ve got it,” he said, “but I make it a rule never to lend books. You see, nobody ever returns them. I know it is so from my own experience. Here, come with me.” And he led the way to his library. “There,” said he, “four thousand volumes. Every — one — of — ’em — borrowed.” No, never lend books. You can’t trust your dearest friend there. I know. Where is that Gil Blas gone? Eh? And that Silvio Pellico? And …. But why continue the list …. He knows. HE KNOWS.
Explanation … There are some book enthusiasts who never lend books to others as a matter of principle. They even refuse to lend books to their closest friends. The author had on one occasion gone to visit one such person who was a known book lover, but never lent any book to anyone. During the conversations, the friend escorted the author to his library having a vast collection of 4000 books. The author was impressed. However, he soon learnt that his friend had accumulated the books by borrowing them from different libraries. The author was both aghast and dismayed to learn this. He was clearly a hypocrite in matter of lending and borrowing books. Quite unabashedly, he boasted about his nature. To demonstrate his fascination for books, he takes the names of authors like like Gil Blas and Silvio Pellico.
Sixth paragraph..
And hats. There are people who will exchange hats. Now that is unpardonable. That goes outside that dim borderland of conscience where honesty and dishonesty dissemble. No one can put a strange hat on without being aware of the fact. Yet it is done. I once hung a silk hat up in the smoking-room of the House of Commons. When I wanted it, it was gone. And there was no silk hat left in its place. I had to go out bareheaded through Palace Yard and Whitehall to buy another. I have often wondered who was the gentleman who put my hat on and carried his own in his hand. Was he a Tory? Was he a Radical? It can’t have been a Labour man, for no Labour man could put a silk hat on in a moment of abstraction. The thing would scorch his brow. Fancy Will Crooks in a silk hat! One would as soon dare to play with the fancy of the Archbishop of Canterbury in a bowler – a thought which seems almost impious.
Explanation .. Then the author takes up the matter of ‘hats’. Some people with sullied morals wilfully take away other people’s superior-looking hats while living their dim-looking pieces behind. It’s clear that a person gets accustomed to the feel of his hat and instantly shows his discomfort if a different hat is put on his head. Because of this human instinct, a person wears someone else’s hat and departs must be held guilty. He can’t expect any leniency when taken to task for such intentional exchange that amounts to theft. These people can be surely classified as dishonest.
The author recalls one occasion when he had entered the smoking room of the House of Commons and hung up his silk hat on the stand. When he returned to pivk it up before leaving the room, he was horrified to discover that someone had decamped with it. The author had to walk past Palace Yard and Whitehall to buy a fresh hat. Obviously, the miscreant put one hat on his head and held the second one in his hand. The author wonders if the person was a Tory (Conservative Party member) or a Radical. The author reasons that the hat-lifter could not be a Labour Party member because these people avoid wearing silk hats. They abhor the luxury of silk hats and feel uncomfortable to wear them even for a short duration.
Fancy Will Crooks was an eminent Labour Party politician wedded to the value of simple living. No one could ever imagine he wearing a silk hat. In the same way, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the religious head of the Church of England playing the role of bowler in the field. Both are incongruous scenes.
Seventh paragraph …
It is possible, of course, that the gentleman who took my silk umbrella did really make a mistake. Perhaps if he knew the owner he would return it with his compliments. The thing has been done. Let me give an illustration. I have myself exchanged umbrellas — often. I hope I have done it honestly, but one can never be quite sure. Indeed, now I come to think of it, that silk umbrella itself was not mine. It was one of a long series of exchanges in which I had sometimes gained and sometimes lost. My most memorable exchange was at a rich man’s house where I had been invited to dine with some politicians. It was summer-time, and the weather being dry I had not occasion for some days afterwards to carry an umbrella. Then one day a sensation reigned in our household.
Explanation … Then, the author does some retrospection in the typical Englishman’s way. He imagines that the person who took away the silk umbrella did it by mistake, not due to any ulterior motive. Had he known that the author personally and that the silk umbrella did belong to him, the errant person possibly would have come to the author to return his silk umbrella. The author then proceeds to admit that he, too, had exchanged umbrellas in the past. ‘He did it involuntarily with no evil intent, but how can the intent of a person be judged,’ the author wonders. He confesses that his silk umbrella whose loss he laments now, was never his own. Umbrellas get exchanged quite frequently. In fact, the person whose silk umbrella the author picked up, was not the original owner of the same. The silk umbrella changed hand many times. He recounts his visit to a rich person’s house for having dinner with other invitees, mostly politicians. It was summer time, and because of the clear weather, the author was not carrying an umbrella. Something very odd happened on that in the dinner party.
Seventh paragraph..
There had been discovered in the umbrella-stand an umbrella with a gold band and a gold tassle, and the name of a certain statesman engraved upon it. There had never been such a super-umbrella in our house before. Before its golden splendours we were at once humbled and terrified — humbled by its magnificence, terrified by its presence. I felt as though I had been caught in the act of stealing the British Empire. I wrote a hasty letter to the owner, told him I admired his politics, but had never hoped to steal his umbrella; then hailed a cab, and took the umbrella and the note to the nearest dispatch office.
Explanation …In the umbrella stand in the rich host’s house, a very luxurious umbrella was hanging. It had a gold band and a gold tassle. The owner, apparently a high-ranked statesman was inscribed on it. The umbrella attracted everyone’s attention because of its ultra-luxury look. The small crowd of diners were awestruck by its opulence. The author came oit with the prized umbrella, but soon he listened to the call of his conscience and parceled the umbrella with a regret note to the owner.
Eighth paragraph …
He was very nice about it, and in returning my own umbrella took all the blame on himself. “What,” he said, “between the noble-looking gentleman who thrust a hat on my head, and the second noble-looking gentleman who handed me a coat, and the third noble-looking gentleman who put an umbrella in my hand, and the fourth noble-looking gentleman who flung me into a carriage, I hadn’t the least idea what I was taking. I was too bewildered by all the noble flunkeys to refuse anything that was offered me.”
Explanation … The statesman gracefully accepted the umbrella and the author’s regret note. The statesman admitted that he had committed many such exchanges of small items such as hat, coat, umbrella etc. He meant to say that such unintended mistakes do happen. (This part may have errors. Suggest your corrections.)
Nineth paragraph …
Be it observed, it was the name on the umbrella that saved the situation in this case. That is the way to circumvent the man with an umbrella conscience. I see him eyeing his exchange with a secret joy; then he observes the name and address and his solemn conviction that he is an honest man does the rest. After my experience to-day, I think I will engrave my name on my umbrella. But not on that baggy thing standing in the corner. I do not care who relieves me of that. It is anybody’s for the taking.
Explanation .. The author states that the name of the umbrella’s owner was inscribed on it. This helped the author to quickly identify the owner and arrange to return it to him. Such moral values of never depriving something of its rightful owner is simply absent in people with ‘umbrella conscience’. The writing of the name of the owner of the umbrella on the item enabled the author to return it quickly. It, thus, saved him from a sense of guilt. Quite prudently, the author decides to have his name written in his next umbrella. This is the lesson he learnt from that fateful day’s incident when he lost his silk umbrella.
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